Staying Power
by Fictatious
Summary: The day that Prussia met his little brother.


**Series:** Hetalia  
**Title:** Staying Power  
**Author:** Fictatious  
**Character(s):** Germany, Prussia  
**Rating:** General  
**Warnings:** Referrence to character-death  
**Summary:** The day that Prussia met his little brother.

…

The wild grasses reached up high enough to brush the boy's ears as he waded through them. He couldn't see very far ahead of him as he pushed through the tall stalks, beginning to yellow in the late summer sun, but he felt the slightest tug telling him which way to go. He'd been following that tug since he'd woken up a few hours ago feeling lonely. Along with the sensation of the tug, he could now hear a sound. Someone was singing. It wasn't a particularly sweet voice, and the words, as the they grew loud enough to make out, were not particularly inspiring, but it was the first time the boy had heard singing, and so it peaked his curiosity and the melody drew him in.

All at once, the boy was startled by a shriek above him and he looked up to see a large, black bird swooping down at him. The boy let out a terrified yelp and crouched down, throwing his hands up over his head to protect himself. He heard the wing-beat come very close to him, and they seemed to circle around before moving away again, the bird letting out another horrible scream.

The singing had stopped but the voice that had been doing it was closer now and calling to someone. "What's with you?" it demanded, and then it was closer again when it asked, "What'd you find girl?"

The boy folded in on himself, crouching as low as he could and squeezing his eyes shut tight. The bird had frightened him and now the sound of crunching grass getting closer and closer, accompanied by little shrieks from the bird, sounded monstrous. Hot tears squeezed out of the corners of the boy's eyes as he cowered in the tall grass and started to sniffle. He was scared. This was scary. He shouldn't have followed that weird voice.

"A kid? ... Hey, kid, what are you doing out here?" the voice asked. It didn't sound angry or scary or monster-like, and the boy dared to open his eyes and peak up and see who it belonged to.

A fair-haired man stood a few paces from him wearing a light brown waistcoat and a strange leather sleeve over one arm. As the man looked at the boy's face, his eyes got wide and a confused expression crossed his features. The boy wiped at his face with the back of his hands, trying to hide the evidence how badly the bird had frightened him, as the fair-haired man knelt down in front of him and caught his chin, looking at him very closely.

"... What's your name, kid?" he asked in a quieter voice than before, his pale eyebrows drawn together oddly.

"... Germany," the boy mumbled, shifting on his feet and feeling uncomfortable.

The man blinked a few times, looking surprised, and then his face split open into a wide grin. "Germany, huh? Well aren't you an ambitious little guy!"

"W-what do you mean?" the boy asked, confused.

"Don't worry about it," the man said, holding his hands out to Germany and smiling in a way that made the boy feel much happier. "Sorry Amelia scared you. She's kind of a jerk." The statement was followed by a little screech above them and Germany bolted forward at the sound and pressed himself against the man, casting a nervous look up at the sky. "Hey, knock it off, you!" the man yelled upwards and held out the arm with the weird sleeve on it.

A moment later the bird swooped down and fastened its talons around the leather-clad arm. The Germany let out a gasp and grabbed the front of the man's waistcoat, staring at the huge bird and trembling a little. The bird cast him an accusing glare and tilted its head, making a short, sharp noise. "Stop being a jerk," the man said, giving the bird a stern look and then his smile came back as he looked down at Germany again. "Don't worry about her. She's just being rude. She won't hurt you."

Germany looked doubtfully back at the black bird, which puffed up its neck-feathers at him. "S-she's loud," he said.

The man started to laugh and the bird let out an annoyed squawk, shifting on his arm. "Yeah, she sure as hell is!" he agreed. He turned to the bird again and whistled three short notes; the bird took off, flying away low over the tips of the grass. Germany relaxed as it left, letting go of the man's shirt and looking up at him again. "So you're Germany, huh?" the man asked, looking down at him and smiling.

Germany nodded.

"Well my name is Prussia," he said. "And I guess I'm your big brother."

Germany felt a surge of excitement and happiness at that revelation. He had a big brother. That was wonderful! His mouth pulled into a huge, dimpled smile.

"But I'll tell ya, usually people call me Gilbert," Prussia said, ruffling Germany's hair. "And I think, for a little while, you shouldn't tell people you're real name, okay?"

"Why?" Germany asked. He didn't understand what could possibly be wrong with his name; it was his _name_.

"Because it's a really special name," Prussia explained, putting his hands under Germany's arms and hoisting him into the air. "It's a name for a really fearless warrior, and I think it would be cool if it were our special secret for now. Doesn't that sound cool?"

Having a secret did sound very appealing and Germany grinned, nodding and putting his arms around Prussia's shoulders as he was picked up and held securely in his brother's arms.

"So then what are we going to call you for your other name...?" Prussia wondered as he started walking, holding Germany well above the top of the grass so that he could see out across the yellow and green field to where a horse was grazing, the scary bird from before settled on a perch attached to it's saddle. "How about Claus?"

"Claus?" Germany repeated and wrinkled his nose. "That's weird..."

"I _like_ Claus," Prussia chuckled. "Hm, how about... Lothar? That's a good name for a warrior. No wait, I've got it!" He gave Germany a grin full of teeth. "Ludwig! That's a perfect name for you!"

"Ludwig..." Germany said thoughtfully, turning the name over in his head. "You think it's good, Bruder?"

"Yeah! It's a good, strong name!" Prussia said with a nod.

"Okay," Germany smiled back at him. "I will be Ludwig."

...

Amelia was no doubt furious that she'd had to go back into the aviary early instead of staying out the whole afternoon like Gilbert had promised her. But the circumstances were far from normal today and so she would just have to get over it. The afternoon was instead spent pulling Ludwig around to the best tailors in Berlin and ordering a proper wardrobe for him. A temporary outfit was procured until the clothes Gilbert had ordered were finished so that Ludwig would not look like a peasant sitting at the King's table for supper that night.

And Gilbert was proud as a peacock as he led the nervous little boy by the hand that evening through the halls of the palace. Courtiers paused when they noticed him and gave Ludwig curious looks but Gilbert ignored them (aside from inwardly reveling in their stares) and settled his new little brother right next to him in the grand dining room. Ludwig, for his part, looked completely overwhelmed and was blushing furiously at all the attention.

"Oh my, Herr Beilschmidt, but who is this!" Frederika, a young countess that had been attempting to flirt with him of late, asked in a bubbly voice.

"This is my little brother," Gilbert answered with a proud grin, patting Ludwig's head gently as he cast the girl a slightly intimidated look. "Ludwig Beilschmidt."

"How wonderful!" Frederika said clasping her hands together and looking Ludwig all up and down. "I did not know you had a little brother, Herr Beilschmidt!"

"Nor did I, Fraulien," Gilbert replied, helping Ludwig fold his napkin. "But there is no doubt that he is my relation."

"Yes, I can see the resemblance in your faces," Frederika smiled warmly at the little boy. "It is wonderful to meet you, Ludwig. Where have you come from? Are you a mighty kingdom like your brother?"

Ludwig flushed and fidgeted awkwardly, casting a helpless look up at Gilbert who ruffled his hair and smirked back towards Frederika. "No, not a kingdom, my lady. Ludwig is to be the greatest of empires."

...

"Herr Beilschmidt," the king greeted as Gilbert entered his study. "I am informed that you seem to have acquired a little brother."

"Indeed, my lord," Gilbert replied with a smug little grin.

"And he is like you?" the king asked curiously, leaning forward a bit in his seat and raising an eyebrow.

Gilbert tilted his head a little and considered. "No. He is stronger."

The king frowned, his brows knitting in a worried look. "And this is not a problem for our kingdom?"

Gilbert's grin widened as he looked at his king. "My brother told me when I found him that his name was _Germany._" Gilbert said in a quieter voice than usual and savored the uncertain but impressed look on the face of the king. "I can only conclude from such nomenclature that he is to be an empire that is home to all the German people. And most importantly, my lord, he came to _me_."

The king's eyes gleamed in the lamplight. "Indeed, Herr Beilschmidt? This is a cause for some excitement," he said quietly.

"I wish to keep his destiny a secret for the time being," Gilbert said in a more serious tone. "If it were known, one of my older brothers would certainly try to take him from us."

"Indeed," the king said again, nodding. "I will consider you his guardian, Herr Beilschmidt. I leave decisions regarding his fate to you."

"Thank you, mein König."

...

Gilbert lay quietly that night, contemplating the sleeping child cradled against his chest. His face was nearly identical to that other kid. But even though that kid had always been so small, Ludwig was a bit littler still, his body younger, new, and definitely not that other boy. Gilbert knew better than anyone that the other boy was gone. He'd been there. He'd seen the boy die. Seen him fall apart and blow away like dust. He had reoccurring nightmares about the sight.

And Ludwig was not him. Would not be him. Gilbert would not allow him to end up like that. His arms tightened around the little boy and he pressed his nose into the fluffy blond hair, taking in the child's smell. There was the earthy scent they all had, mingled with smoke, gunpowder, machine-oil and blood... Something like England's smell, but without the overpowering odor of seawater. It was definitely unique from that other kid, who had almost never gotten his hands dirty. Clean hands never built _real_ empires. Ludwig's darker, dirtier scent had so much more potential.

Germany would last. Germany would be _strong_.


End file.
